Woes of The Unwelcome
by No Small Dream
Summary: Avrosa Brownlock is a versatile, self-reliant hobbit that has about had it with the Shire. When she participates in a performance that doesn't quite follow the script, she's forced into something she's never agreed to. So she devised a plan: Leave-the sooner, the better. Then, lo and behold, an opportunity comes knocking at her door-well, technically Bilbo's.
1. Chapter 1

Avrosa Brownlock was angry. She was beyond angry to say the least. To think that her sister would be her mother's favorite astounded her and all because her sister, Gilly, married a Baggins.

Of course, it was a lot more than_ just_ marrying a Baggins. This was _Posco_ Baggins, son of Polo Baggins, grandson of Ponto Baggins, great grandson of the very first Baggins, Balbo.

Gilly welcomed her family to live with her and her husband in Hobbiton. Florence Brownlock almost dragged Avrosa kicking and screaming to their new home.

So, yes, Avrosa was furious. She hated Hobbiton and the Bagginses—all except for one. Bilbo Baggins.

He was her cousin in-law, and he was odd, much like her. Bilbo tried to hide it though, and he masked it very well, passing himself off as any other hobbit. She tried many times to find the odd part of Bilbo and extract it, but to no avail.

One day, as average as any other, she decided to pay Bilbo a visit. She strolled up to Bag-end playing her clarinet contently. It was a sort of announcement to Bilbo, so before she could think about knocking, the door opened to a stern-faced hobbit.

"Hello, cousin!" Avrosa smiled.

"We are _not_ cousins," he deadpanned, but stepped aside to let her in anyway. "You've got none of my blood, and I've got no drop of yours whatsoever."

Sighing, she waltzed into the entrance hall.

"Why are you here?" He sniffed. "Come to mock me about my respectable lifestyle?"

"Mother is bothering me again, and I've made up a new song."

"Oh?" He rolled his eyes and bustled around the house.

"The title isn't appropriate for me to tell you, so don't ask me to say it."

"Of course not." He muttered, then: " Tea?"

"Yes, please. And don't ask me to sing it either, because it's not proper to talk of my sister so Ill-manneredly."

"_Really_, Avrosa? Your sister is not a monster. I'm tired of you complaining about how you live in a family of trolls and hogs. It's immature and, to be frank, snobbish!"

Avrosa gasped indignantly "did you call me _snobbish_?"

"I-uh," He paused; straightening his posture in confusion, he seemed to snap out of it a second later "no—yes!"

"I am not snobbish! They're the snobbish ones—always fussing around about dinner parties, flower arrangements, and those blasted wedding plans." Avrosa rolled her eyes, and then suddenly became lost in thought. "She has no idea what I've been doing all these years! Studying, performing, and even working for the local healer! I know all a hobbit needs to know to survive on her own, while dearest sister Gilly can strike a pose and bat her eyelashes! Where is the justice in that?"

It was true when she had said she could survive on her own just fine. Her father—before he had died—often took her and her sister hunting. It was the only way she could be the better child, and though that was the only reason she chose to excel, it made for impressive feats. Hobbit girls don't usually do the hunting, but after her father's death it sort of became Avrosa's job. No one approved of it, but she didn't care. It was the only way she could keep her sanity intact. The small Harfoot in her made it difficult to brave the woods, but it never stopped her.

Her day usually consisted of trading with the farmers. Posco Baggins and his family ran a bakery of sorts, and she had volunteered to trade any goods. Then she would take a walk to the woods and search for herbs, mushrooms, and the like. Then, she returned to the Shire with her collecting's and spent the rest of the day studying or performing.

Bilbo brought them two cups of tea, setting them down delicately and sitting across from Avrosa. He rubbed at his face.

"Listen, I understand you don't like your family, and I-uh-would probably feel the same, but I can't do anything about it, so-"

"Is this your mother's china?"

Bilbo knitted his brow, confused as to what it had to do with the current conversation. "Yes—and I would like it if you didn't scratch at it like that, thank you. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, they're the only family you have, so why not make the most of it?"

She leaned back in her seat, tapping impatiently on his wooden floors. "It's not worth my time to dwell among witless fools. It sounds harsh, but for the whole of my life I have lived in the shadow of my sister's beauty, and I cannot stand for it any longer! It is time I made a decision to stick it out, or speak for myself!"

Bilbo pressed his lips together and nodded. "Okay, well it seems as though you have it all figured out. Why don't you—"

"What about you, Bilbo?" Avrosa tilted her head and glued her blue-green eyes on every single indication of body language she could pick up.

"I-I-I...what do you mean?" Bilbo set his tea down defensively, he was perfectly happy in his large home. He had everything a hobbit needed and more.

"Surely you must be tired of your rickety old home; sure it's lovely for a respectable hobbit such as yourself-being a Baggins and all-but what if you could _travel_ by maps instead of collect them?"

Bilbo blinked—four times to be precise—before answering in a slow voice. "I am perfectly happy where I am _now_, I have a good reputation set out for me, are we understood?" His face was set defiantly, unmoving as he awaited an answer.

Avrosa narrowed her eyes. "Congratulations on being one of the most respectable Hobbits in The Shire, Mr. Baggins. I pity how the rest of your life will turn out." With a scrape of her chair, and a secret wish that she had damaged his lovely floorboards, she turned away heatedly and paced the room.

Bilbo sipped at his tea awkwardly. This is not how a conversation was supposed to go. They should be talking about the lovely weather or perhaps even the chicken thief that has been stirring up trouble in the smial's of Tuckborough. Instead he was arguing of matters that didn't affect him in the slightest. It reminded him of what happened just a week ago, with the old wizard Gandalf.

"Perhaps," he began, trying to release the tension. There was a long pause in which his mouth remained parted as he struggled to think of what to say next. "We need biscuits." And with his finger pointed in the air, he started toward the pantry, busying himself with anything but Avrosa and her outbursts.

Arguing made him hungry, and as he riffled through his pantry for soft biscuits, he could not ignore the lovely music that emanated from the room in which he had left. He paused for a minute as the music soothed his mind.

Avrosa was a brilliant musician, but—he reasoned—her family business was her own, and had nothing to do with his reputation. With a final huff, he resumed his search for his snacks as a token of peace.

Muttering to himself about how the butter should not have been placed on the bottom shelf, he lingered when he reached the table, briefly engrossed in his own thoughts before he set the bowls down in the middle of the table.

Avrosa stopped her playing upon his return, her eyes less fierce and piercing, though still observing his every move. "Not hungry." Was all she said before she resumed playing her music.

Bilbo shrugged, and grabbed a biscuit from the basket, and sliced some butter to better flavor the bland bread.

He chewed thoughtfully as Avrosa stood when she finished her song. "This was a nice chat, Bilbo," she smiled.

"Really? Because it felt strangely one-sided." He gave his eyebrows a raise as he swallowed.

"Nonsense! I think we both put in enough thought. Now I'm off to perform, will you be coming to the Methel-stage tonight? I have a feeling it'll be our best routine yet."

"Um...no I-I'm awfully busy, sorry."

Avrosa laughed to hide her disappointment. "Of course."

She got up to leave but paused as she started towards the door. "Oh-and um...can I stay the night again? Mother kicked me out...again..."

Bilbo rolled his eyes and sighed irritably "fine." He decided, setting his handkerchief down. "But this is the last time!"

Avrosa laughed. He had said the same thing the time before.

**A/N: Kili/OC. **

**Boom.**

**Review?**

**XD found the picture on Google…**

**I hope you all like it; I did a lot of research! I wanted Avrosa to be a Harfoot hobbit, and the Brownlock family worked its way into the family tree perfectly—Posco being around Bilbo's age puts Gilly and Avrosa in the same age-range. That made me ecstatic, so I am very proud ;)**

**I love hearing constructive criticism, so anything you have to say would be satisfying—I will try to respond ASAP through PM, but I'm a bit of a procrastinator :P **

**Thank you!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I own nothing but Avrosa, sadly…**

Avrosa tucked her clarinet into her satchel, starting down The Hill and on her way to Bywater. On her way she couldn't quite find it in herself to resist tipping Lobelia Sackville-Baggins flower pot over. No harm was done, seeing as the plant was still very much intact, but the feelings were present.

Unbeknownst to the Shire, Avrosa had discovered that Lobelia could not stand anything out of order. She did things in patterns. The sideways plant was enough to ruin Lobelias afternoon tea, and that made Avrosa happy.

It was childish, she knew that, but Lobelia had caused Avrosa trouble on more than one occasion. Just last week the darned woman suggested she were keeping some of the farmers trade for her own, which was quickly resolved. Florence had insisted her daughter was no thief-but not for Avrosa's sake-no, rather her own. Mrs. Brownlock would soon rather die than have her family name tainted with rumored thievery. Perhaps the only reason Avrosa was still a part of the family was because Florence did not want to be pegged as the troubled family.

Avrosa yawned, the sunset was clear on the horizon. It was a cloudless sky, without as much as a breeze. But there was some sort of summertime buzz within the air that provided the skip in her step. She knew the crickets would be out tonight and the frogs would join in with chirps of their own-all the more perfect for the nights show.

She would receive a large crowd tonight-that was for sure.

"Hullo-who's this?"

Avrosa halted in the middle of the bridge she was crossing to look up at a scrawny hobbit atop a pony. She recognized him right away.

"Avrosa Brownlock! I killed the wolf stalking your sheep, farmer."

The farmer—Orgulas Brandybuck—squinted at her from high up on his small steed, then his face lit up in recognition.

"Oh—yes, yes, I remember you! Come now, I don't wish to run you over!"

Avrosa swiftly swung herself up to join him, "Where are you heading off to?" She asked.

"Buckland. Though I'm to stop in Eastfarthing, of course, I'd fancy a stay at the Golden Perch for a night or too."

"The best drinks in the Shire," Avrosa recited with a spark of wonder in her eye, then remembered what the farmer had said about Buckland. She had only been to Buckland once, but was too young to remember. "My father lived in Buckland for a short time—said the hobbits there close the front gate and lock their doors every night, said he learned everything he knew as a bounder there."

Orgulas chuckled sadly. "And your father was one of the best! A shame he died. Say-where're _you_ headed?"

"Methel-stage. I perform tonight," she leaned back and rested her fist upon her cheek to look at him better, her earlier statement earned an impressed nod.

"You'll be reciting poems then? Playing that clarinet of yours?"

"Indeed, I always do."

"I'll drop you off in Bywater if you'd like, to repay you for saving my farm!"

She thanked him, as it was necessary. There was no sense in arguing, for she knew Orgulas Brandybuck to be stubborn. He often got grief from his wife about it, so Avrosa had an inkling of a suspicion that he was somewhat looking forward to the journey _alone_.

Hobbiton was lacking in taverns and pubs, they were all found in Bywater. So it didn't take long for them to arrive without distractions.

She hopped off the carriage and waved her goodbyes as Farmer continued on, eating the mushroom pie she left with him.

Now in the middle of Bywater, she made for the leather shop, a barter plan forming in her head, seeing as she was low on money.

Inside was a dusty shop that smelled strongly of pipe-weed. There were tables racked with various leather-made products from shoes to canteens.

She eyed a certain satchel "How much for this sturdy one here?" She asked the vendor.

He chuckled, giving her a toothy grin. "That's not for young ladies, Ms. Brownlock—but I suppose that won't be stoppin' you."

"Quite right you are."

"You'd fancy some trousers too?" He laughed at his own joke gruffly, then coughed.

She wrinkled her nose. "I don't see why I should, my fathers will do just fine." Seemingly oblivious to his sarcasm, she eyed the sun though the dirty window for time. "Now I have some mushroom pies that I made myself the other day, and seeing as you haven't had a meal since breakfast—oh don't look so surprised, there's a jam stain on your shoulder—I reckon it would be nice accompanied with some money."

The man swore beneath his breath and tossed the satchel into Avrosa's arms. She handed over her fair share somewhat smugly and hesitated on leaving.

She turned over her shoulder and called back to the shopkeeper. "Buy yourself some better Pipe-weed, the one you smoke is too herbal for you. Your wife hates it and the smell is hurting your business."

The hobbit sneered ungratefully at her and shooed her away. "I don't have a wife."

"No wonder." She left the furious man behind her, admiring her new satchel.

Though, she remarked, if anything was hurting the business it was the hobbit himself. Avrosa couldn't imagine anyone actually wanting to buy things from a cranky squinty-eyed old hobbit. Then again, not many hobbits took her advice quite the wrong way to her confusion. When she tried to tell Posco's mother that she had awful taste, it ended with Avrosa being ushered into the other room by her own mother. She hadn't meant to offend the woman, but her mother had to clean up her mistakes once again.

She continued on up the road, turning left until she reached the winding path that lead to the familiar stage area. She's walked this path many times—whether to escape and play her music, or to perform with a group.

Mother never attended her performances, never giving her a reason _why_ she didn't despite how many times Avrosa would ask. Granted, she performed mostly at taverns—being one of the best storytellers. She told stories about her father and mother hated the tales.

By the time she arrived at the Methel-stage, the sun had sunk beneath the horizon, and her hopes were high.

"Hullo, Avrosa—twenty minutes late as usual, but I see you found time for shopping."

"Do you like it?" She stopped to place it on the barrel in front of her, switching out the contents of one satchel to put it in the other.

Primula raised an eyebrow. "Did you not hear me?"

"Twenty minutes late, I know," Avrosa waved a hand dismissively.

To say the least, Avrosa was a difficult hobbit to deal with. She spent most of her time observing people rather than getting to know them, and appeared aloof. Normally a strict mind wasn't so looked down upon in the Shire and the hobbits loved her performances. In a nutshell, she got by on social standards by being someone she didn't want to be or being someone she wasn't.

Primula cleared her throat uncomfortably, shifting her feet, causing alarm bells to go off in Avrosa's head. She eyed the other hobbit suspiciously. "Nothing witty on your part, then? What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Primula said hastily, then blushed when she realized how quick her answer was.

"Primula Brandybuck I will only ask you once, or so help me I will tell Drogo that you chew your hair!"

Primula's face contorted with horror "You wouldn't dare!"

Avrosa crossed her arms challengingly. Ironically, she hated gossip, but it became so easy to read people that she came to her own conclusions. She had figured out herself that Primula liked Drogo some time ago. It opted for nice black-mail, but she hadn't the heart to use it—because if it's one thing Avrosa hated, it was having things go on behind her back. But Primula couldn't know that.

Primula was showing a lot of restraint, however, and after a fine stare down between the two, Avrosa said "I _will_ find out—but I shan't stoop to a level as low as that."

Primula huffed angrily, and walked away.

As Avrosa took her time observing the other performers, she noticed that they were acting especially odd today.

Two girls walked past her giggling, taking turns eyeing Avrosa over their shoulders. A group of hobbits stopped whispering when she approached them, and tried to make themselves busy. Avrosa had frowned and walked the other way. What was going on?

"Fifteen minutes till show time," Adelard Took called, and Avrosa stood to stretch and take her position.

Adelard smiled approvingly at her, making Avrosa flinch when he walked over to join her.

"I was talkin' with your mother the other day," he began, looking for her reaction. "She tells me ya can't hold your liquor."

She openly glared at him, causing his smirk to widen. "But if ya had to choose between wines and ale, which would you prefer?"

Avrosa muttered something beneath her breath about Adelard's funny haircut and he rolled his eyes. The girl was intolerable to him. She was childish and blunt.

"Tonight's going to a good one, eh?"

"What do you have up your sleeve_, Took_?" She realized, jabbing him in the chest with her clarinet.

"Pardon?"

"Everyone's been acting strange, and I'll bet _you_ have something to do with it!"

He sighed, tutting disappointedly. "Does anything get past you? I'm afraid you'll have to wait and see."

He gave her one last smile at her searing glare, and went backstage.

She stood there frozen, going through worst-case scenarios in her head. Perhaps he's already given her a hint. She replayed their conversation in her head. He didn't say anything suspicious except—she narrowed her eyes. _Mother._

She paced around for about thirty minutes—ignoring everyone's glances and chuckles. Whatever it was, it made them laugh. What could he have possibly been planning? When Primula called for showtime, Avrosa winced and scurried backstage.

She _hated_ not knowing things.

To reassure herself, she tested her knowledge. Has she ever been wrong before? Well, yes, but she didn't like talking about that. "Adelard," She set her jaw when he turned to look at her with a mock innocent face. "I wouldn't light that candle if I were you, it's ancient. If I recall…no, it couldn't be…"

Adelard made a show of looking haughty, barely holding back a slightly high, "What?"

"You haven't heard? Why, that candle belonged to The Old Took himself. Just last week when I came here to pick up my book, I swore I saw it light itself when a cold breeze blew by!"

Avrosa had timed it perfectly. With her storytelling skills and her keen eyes set on the swaying trees—a chilly breeze trundled over them and Adelard squeaked, dropping the candle. Everyone laughed, and Avrosa relaxed slightly. The announcer had finished his introduction.

It was a full crowd as she had expected. Scanning it with a satisfied smile, she faltered. Her mother was there—watching her sternly. Trying not to let it bother her, she ignored her mother and took her place downstage.

There was a scary moment when the fiddle didn't introduce their first song—but she ignored that too.

Then, all the performers retreated towards the back of the stage. She visibly tensed when she heard the scuffling of feet.

Adelard Took spoke up. "Before we begin I'd like to introduce Ms. Avrosa Brownlock!"

Avrosa almost dropped her clarinet, but instead she shot him a look and played along. She curtsied.

"Now—"

He got down on one knee.

Her muscles seized and she did drop it this time.

"Will you have the pleasure of being my wife?"

**A/N: Hello! **

**I know it's been awhile, but I already have the next chapter written, so that should be up soon, after I edit it :D **

**Thanks to all my readers, followers, reviewers, etc. I sincerely enjoy your feedback! It's encouraging for me to pursue my love for writing. **

**Any constructive criticism is fine—in fact, it's welcome—considering I'm **_**always**_** looking for area's to improve in. **


	3. Chapter 3

It had never been cold in the Shire, but she was suddenly frigid—all but frozen to the spot where her feet were rooted into the old wooden planks of the methel-stage.

She's never recalled it ever being that quiet either. The chirps of mirthful crickets was the only thing keeping her sanity intact at that gripping moment.

The tension could not have been helped. Avrosa imagined that this is what forgetting a line must have been like. With a heart beating, sweaty palms fisted, time slowing, and dying from the inside out—but knowing the show must go on. She had to improvise her way out of the sticky situation, but how? She thought back on all the other times a fellow actor blanked on a line. _"Just push through it,"_ they would say, _"hopefully someone will help you out."_

Unfortunately the situation did not apply in the same way she thought it would.

Her mind seemed to cease working.

"Perhaps I did not say it loud enough?"

The audience chuckled.

"Avrosa Brownlock, will you marry me?"

Then she snapped out of it.

Holding back a scream of terror, she opted to gape like an unattractive fish whilst backing away slowly. _She couldn't do it._

Her back hit the podium behind her, stopping her in her tracks. Though only a simple obstacle, it seemed to hinder any escape route she attempted to form in her racing mind. Adelard chuckled affectionately, making the audience "awww" and making Avrosa throw up a little.

But she_ couldn't_ do it. "I—"

Seeing her hesitation, Adelard rose valiantly, striding up to put his arms around her in a tight embrace. A little too tight for her liking.

The audience adored it, and they cheered louder and louder.

"What do ya say, Avrosa?" He shouted over the cheering, his arm remained tossed around her shoulder. It didn't take a self-acclaimed expert in body language such as herself to know that it meant "stay put."

The hobbits in the crowd hollered their input, shouting "say yes!" And various other torturous cheers.

Avrosa felt sick to her stomach. This was anything but what she wanted her life to be like. Married to a coward who believes every second of his life he's being haunted by some otherwise vengeful specter? Adelard didn't hold any remotely positive feelings toward anyway, so why would he demand she retaliate his supposed undying love?

Looking on from the throngs of the audience was her mother, eyeing her stonily. She knew what her mother wanted. She wanted her daughter to make her rich, like Gilly. _That's_ what this whole thing was about.

Anger coursed through her icy veins, melting the crippling fear to reveal red-hot fury.

"Avrosa!" Came a harsh break in her thoughts. Adelard plastered an over-done smile on his face, his eyes widening to tell her to hurry up and accept. "We haven't got all night, silly girl," he muttered through grit teeth.

"Adelard Took," her harsh voice silenced the clapping and shouts of the crowd. Though her throat contracted in anger and her nostrils flared, she forced her face to remain as calm as it could be. "Marriage is an undying bond between two lost souls destined to be together." She paused to glance at the stars in desperation, catching her breath—and perhaps even to add to the drama, no sense disappointing the crowd while the night was still young. There _had_ to be a way out of this. "We are both young, and my sister has yet to go through with her own wedding!"

Avrosa could feel her mother bristle all the way from the stage at the remark.

"So I find it painfully disagreeable that you should even_ think_ of marriage!"

The crowd suddenly became uncomfortable, yet still managed to be on the edge of their seats in response to the unfolding drama—perfect gossip to last them months. Adelard paled, looking to Florence for help and proving Avrosa's previous suspicion correct. Now if only she could find out how much her mother bribed him.

Avrosa smiled slightly in satisfaction. If they thought for one second that she would be a proper hobbit girl and cooperate, they had another thing coming.

"Forgive me, but I must say, I'm fairly confused. I know it's quite shocking, but my love for you is not false!"

Avrosa's eye twitched in irritation. What was it going to take?

"Now please...become my wife?"

A flicker of annoyance crossed Avrosa's features. She grabbed him and pulled him off to the side, lowering her voice she hissed behind grit teeth "Listen here, _Took_, if you think for one second I'm going to let you get away with this, you are beyond wrong! I dare say vengeance is in order—so if you _ever_ hear of my death, you can be sure I'll haunt you for the rest of your miserable life!"

Three different emotions flashed over Adelard's sweaty face. Fear, revulsion, and some sort of unexpected impulsion, much like the face a child would make before disobeying.

"She said yes!" He shouted hastily before she could say anything, and the audience roared their approval.

Her heart skipped a beat, and all at once it felt like all hell broke loose. She was as still as a statue, and as wide-eyed as an owl. Then, she felt numb. She could barely hear the audience or feel Adelard's passionate kiss hard upon her unresponsive lips. She didn't fight when he picked her up and spun her around, or when he escorted her off the stage as one would a newly-wed.

What was wrong with her? Where was her bark? Or her bite for that matter—seeing as this Took deserved a punch in the face. Regardless, she was so off-guard she couldn't find the words to speak.

The only thing she knew was that she was still breathing, and she was leaving the Shire—for good.

The very second her feet hit the ground, she took off running.

"Look at that! So excited, she's gone off to tell all her friends!"

"Tears of joy! Oh to be young again!"

"A pretty young thing, they'll make a handsome couple. Why, with his chiseled face and her beauty, my grandchildren will have to compete!"

Avrosa ran blindly, veering off the road to a short cut she knew of that went through the South Fields. She didn't stop, even when reality caught up with her and seemed to pass her so fast that she couldn't prevent the sobs from wracking her chest. Her run slowed down into a sort of despairing stumble.

When she had finally reached her destination, she threw up in the bushes and rushed to the door, knocking repeatedly.

When it didn't open, she tried the door knob.

"All right! I'm coming, I'm _coming_—Avrosa? Oh, not now, I'm just about to eat and—what's wrong? I—"

She tackled Bilbo in a bone-crushing hug, burying her face deep into his shoulder.

"I don't...unders—" his eyes widened as he eyed her left hand which was now adorned with a ring. "—tand...oh..."

She pulled away and examined him sadly, trying to read his face for any source of hope or even indignation. His mouth was opened slightly, and he fidgeted under her gaze. "I'm so—" he ruffled his hair—"_so_ sorry, Avrosa, but there's nothing you—or I—can do."

That was it. The final straw. Her bonds gave way, and all restraints were loose.

"I-I-I don't want to g-get _m-m-married!_" She sobbed "not t-to _him_! Adelard T-Took, the b-biggest coward in all of-of Tuckborough! It's not fair!" Her voice took a high pitch, "I didn't even a-accept, h-he forced it on me, a-and I couldn't d-do _anything_!"

While Avrosa blubbered through her tears, Bilbo patted his pockets until he found his handkerchief. When he offered it to her, he felt like an idiot, there she was, hyperventilating directly in front of him and all he had to offer was a piece of cloth. He tossed it onto the corner table and

"I can't breathe, I can't breathe, I can't-I can't..."

"Um-I-maybe you should...sit! Yes-have a seat in the dining room, I'm about done with supper." He paused and fidgeted, his eyebrows scrunching together oddly. "A-are you hungry?"

"How can I sup at a time like this?" She asked incredulously, and then continued to wallow in her own misery.

"Oh...um..." Bilbo hesitated between his crying cousin-in-law and his supper. He surely didn't want to burn it, but he also didn't quite feel comfortable leaving Avrosa to cry alone in the entrance hall. "Why don't you tell me what happened...in the dining room, perhaps?" He suggested guiltily.

Avrosa rolled her eyes despite her predicament and shuffled to the intended destination. She plopped herself down at the table with a sigh, feeling the warmth from the fireplace radiating.

"Well, It started out as…" she sniffed as he scanned the cooking fish from the corner of his eyes.

"Bilbo Baggins? Are you listening?"

"Huh—wh—wha...yes!"

Avrosa eyed the ring on her finger distastefully and sighed. "It started out as the perfect night," she began, "the frogs were chirping, the skies were crystal clear, and the stars seemed to wink at me from up above—I was in the highest of moods! But alas, it was not to last, for as soon as I happened upon the stage—already alight with lanterns—I could tell—"

There was a plop and sizzle, causing Avrosa to glance up suddenly.

"Sorry, don't mind me, I'm listening..." Bilbo cringed as he placed the pan back and sat down with his dinner.

Her heart dropped. She should've known he wouldn't care. Avrosa would just have to suck it up like she always did.

"Bilbo?"

"Hm?" He said distractedly.

"Do you think I am...strange?"

He looked at her with his mouth pressed together, then paused when his eyes landed on her face. This was the first time he'd ever seen her genuinely insecure, for once she trusted him enough to show him what was behind her mask. How would her cousin respond? What if he didn't want her to be a part of his life? He would push her away like Gilly and her mother, and that idea terrified her. Swallowing the rising panic of rejection, Avrosa tried vainly to mask herself again. She didn't expect Bilbo to love her like the family she had always secretly dreamed of, she was entirely okay with that and—while he didn't know it—her quarrels with him always put her in a better mood. Like she had a brother. She had always wanted a brother.

He placed his utensils down and cleared his throat, bringing her back to reality so her teal eyes were scanning every movement she could. "I...shouldn't _think_ you're strange, but you certainly aren't like other hobbits."

"Is that good?"

"I don't know."

Avrosa nodded in relief, she believed him.

Seeing as she was left to her thoughts, he picked up his utensils once again. A knock came at the door, and a straight-faced Bilbo sighed, stood, and motioned for Avrosa to stay put. Naturally she followed him closely behind, her heart beginning to race again. She watched the door in fear, hiding behind Bilbo in case it was her mother—or worse—Adelard Took. With a shudder, she retreated to watch from the parlour doorframe.

The door opened.

There was a moment of suspense as she craned her neck to look over Bilbo's form, which had just stiffened in surprise.

"Dwalin," the stranger bowed "at your service."

**A/N: Ta-dah! ****An update you say? _Impossible! (_ that should be French, but it's spelled the same way...so, yeah...)**

**Aaaanyway, sorry it took a while, I promise I won't abandon this, so bear with me! **

**Thank you for all my support, whether it be a follow, favorite, or a review! It means a lot when you guys stop by :) I hope Bilbo was well in-character! **

**Thanks again :D I hope you enjoyed!**


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